A Million Things
by semina-augum
Summary: From childhood to adolescence, to adulthood, to infinity. A collection of ORAS hardenshipping stories from when they were young. Title taken from one of my weibo posts where I blurted that "If I had all the time in the world, I would write a million things for hardenshipping."


**Notes**

Alola! Semina here. This is my first time posting a fanfic in English and it'll be a pleasure if you like it!

I thank my friend Straw for helping me perfect this story idea and my bro o1athe for proofreading it and making it A+. (And a thank you to Meeps too for helping o1athe and me figure out that one difficult line)

That's it for now! Please enjoy =[,,_,,]:3

(See end of story for more notes.)

* * *

I. The Encounter

Archie was bitten by a tiny, redheaded mad dog.

Dressed in only a new pair of shorts, the boy ruffled through the wardrobe in the wall. He had to find something to cover up the evidence as smoothly as possible—his blue bandanna wouldn't do. Once or twice, he peered at the aching bite mark and winced. That dwarf kid may look weak, but he had to be a canine pokémon from Hell, or some monster from Archie's adventure books, bearing a human disguise. Archie was certain that somewhere in the kid's red, tousled hair, there had to be a pair of flappy ears. Maybe three pairs of flappy ears. Maybe even a fluffy tail hidden in his shorts.

He finally managed to discover a long-sleeved shirt in the countless layers of cloth and slipped it on. The additional material wrapping his arms was chilly and pleased Archie for a short while, but then became restraining. The sleeves pulled on his arms. This extra layer did not shield them from heat but rather enveloped it, and Archie disliked how it felt. He hadn't started to sweat, not yet, but there was no way he was going outside again today. Not in this outfit.

Dejected, Archie turned on the air conditioner, slumped in the center of his bed with a muffled thud, Carvanha the fish pokémon in his arms, and pretended he was floating on water. The ceiling was the bright, brilliant sky; clouds floated past him. Whenever he wanted to drift somewhere else, he would kick the bedsheets. Which, in reality, was done by wriggling back and forth on the bed, but Archie would pretend that the process was smooth. He liked to swim. He liked anything that was related to water, whether it was nature or pokémon. Surely there couldn't be anything wrong with that, right?

Shelly never minded it. The other boys that played with him never minded it. Ma and Pa never minded it either. They all had fun together, splashing water at each other, having swimming competitions, messing around with water pokémon, adventuring on ocean routes. The ocean was where he met Carvanha.

But that messy little redhead, with his black, thick-framed glasses, his proper white shirt with the two black straps stretched across it that hung at the waist of his shorts, his red, knee-high socks that stuck to his skinny legs, his sparkling leather shoes (how long did it even take him to put those on?), and most of all, his smug, faintly freckled face—that kid minded it more than anyone else, and Archie hated it.

Archie started to kick his legs on the mattress. It thundered back like a frenzy of drum beats, and the boy imagined himself splashing in the blue; the water bursting with blasting bellows over and over again until his legs became sore and tired. Carvanha let out a croak of complaint; it probably wasn't expecting the sudden shakiness. Archie petted its head to calm it down—the mattress was a solid object, after all. It was different from the water itself, which always gently accepted you as you submerged into it, flowing and shifting along as you maneuvered within.

The water was simply great even if that redhead never understood its greatness.

Granted, not everyone was amazing enough to understand the water, but he should have shut up and let everyone else have their fun. But no, he had to say something nasty, had to cross his arms and stand with head up high, chest puffed out, as if he were the brightest kid of them all. As if everyone else, roaming freely in the great wild, barefoot and topless, was an idiot (although Shelly, the only girl, wore a t-shirt at all times; perhaps girls were better at withstanding hot temperatures than boys were).

It happened when Archie and the other children were playing at the pond in the woods a couple hours earlier. They were in an intense game of Muddy Dodgeball, where the only rule was to get the opposing team out by hurling mudballs at them. Often, the children added in extra rules for the sake of fun, as was the case with today's game. Captains were appointed to save their teammates by catching mud attacks with their hands. It was Archie's turn to be captain this round—he was more like a whirlwind than anything else, diving underwater and assaulting the strong kids of the other team from behind, mud already in his hands when he leaped to the surface—and his team was with him. Shelly tossed water at the opposing team's side to stop their attacks, while the other members of the team threw mud one after another as Archie started to catch and dodge attacks from the other side.

Soon it was obvious which team was the winner; the remaining five children from the other team chattered to themselves from afar and considered surrendering. Captain Archie beamed at his imminent victory when a voice from the shore caught everyone's attention:

"Don't you know that ponds have trillions of germs, if not more?"

Sploosh. Something dropped into the water on the other side of the pond. Nobody bothered to check what it was. They were too busy looking towards the voice. There, on solid ground, stood a kid— _the_ kid—with red hair, nice clothes, and nerdy glasses, not half-naked, not barefoot, and very different from them all. The children whispered amongst themselves, unsure of what to do about the alien newcomer's sudden appearance. He was like a finely-dressed prince straight out of Archie's fairy tale books—which was fine in a picture, but not in real life. Real kids wore t-shirts and sneakers and short socks or no socks at all, not clean white shirts with black strap things and leather shoes.

Archie stayed quiet and thought about what that kid was saying. Catching germs meant becoming sick. Getting sick made everything hurt, which meant staying at home for days. It also used to mean not going to kindergarten—though he'd be in elementary school when this summer ended—which sounded fun at first. But, in reality, kindergarten was much more fun than being stuck in bed. Being sick left Archie with no energy to watch television, no energy to play inside, not even any energy to listen to Ma's stories. The only nice thing about being sick was having the doctor bring in a Chansey. He got to eat its eggs, and Chansey eggs were yummy. Still, it wasn't worth enduring all the discomfort and loneliness.

Yet this remark about the pond and its germs, supposedly uttered by that red-haired boy to reveal its harm, failed to make Archie panic. Despite all the danger, he was a healthy boy who had played in many bodies of water. He almost never got sick. And the children unanimously agreed that Hoenn's water was immaculate. Even if it wasn't, a long and hot bath after their horseplay would wash the filth away. Their experiences proved this pond harmless.

There was no good reason to diss the pond like that. It was the first time that Archie had heard this, and he didn't know how to respond. But Archie was always happy to learn more about water whether it was dangerous or not. In that silent moment, the red-haired boy was interesting. He wanted to hear more.

At least, that was what he _had_ wanted before the mud splattered on the back of his head.

"Captain Archie's down!"

A cry, followed by roaring cheers—the brave warrior from the opposing team hollered as he retreated. His benched teammates burst with joy, punching the air, jumping, hollering, chanting revenge from the sidelines. Seeing that Archie, ever the fierce reviver, was out of the game, the other four kids retaliated without any hesitation, knocking out one or two of Archie's teammates with their first throws. An enraged Shelly took control as Second Captain and barked commands while she and the others swam towards the frontline.

It dawned on Archie that the game was still going when the red-haired boy appeared before them, but it was too late now. As more and more of his teammates fell to the furious comeback of their enemies, it became clear that their advantage was gone. Even if they managed to win this time, Captain Archie had already failed to lead his team to victory.

As their crushing defeat flooded his mind, Archie pouted at the ceiling. Carvanha grunted in sympathy.

The intruder, the properly-dressed boy who spoke on solid ground, this mess was all his fault. Archie decided to glare at him like a preying Sharpedo to show how annoyed he was. The redhead didn't seem to notice; he was recoiling at the sight of Muddy Dodgeball as if it were a trash mountain or barf on the floor. He backed up a few steps and regained his composure, arms crossed, head high, standing tall and quite condescendingly for a kid, looking down on the game like a bored Persian. An arched brow. A shake of the head. A sigh.

"The Great Maxie does _not_ play in dirty water," the kid declared, sneering at the pond. He strolled towards the dirt trail leading back to town.

The other kids stared at the waning silhouette. One kid tilted his head; another asked his friend why the red-haired kid said that, and was replied with a shrug and an "I don't know." Mud started to fly through the air again after a couple seconds. Archie took a quick step back as one of the mudballs zipped past him and continued to stare at the empty shore, even after the red-haired kid disappeared. He didn't get what all this was about either, but he felt rage welling up in his chest. The kid reminded him of the stupid, snotty nobles who disparaged commoners in his stories, the ones Archie always wanted to punch in the face. Barging into their game, ruining his team's epic victory, and then striding away like it was nothing—who on earth did that kid think he was? He wasn't even a real prince.

No one ever said that kid had to like Archie and the others. So the pond had germs in it—Archie didn't mind. He didn't even mind how the kid had thrown him off his game with those facts of his. He still didn't like being kicked out of his own game, but there was nothing he could do. The kid was probably telling the truth. Telling the truth was good. Archie wouldn't get mad at him for that. But calling the water _dirty_ was calling the water _bad_ , and that annoyed him. The water wasn't bad. That was unreasonable and wrong and Archie wasn't about to let anyone get away with it.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the water and crawled to the shore. A feral shark lunging out, he darted into the forest, flurried steps pattering on the ground.

"Hey you! Red kid with the glasses!"

Red Kid with the Glasses spun around, wide-eyed and mouth open, his glasses almost falling off his face. "What?" He glared at Archie while adjusting his eyewear back into place.

"I grew up in this pond, so yer not gonna say bad stuff about it! Yer not going unless you say sorry!"

"Humans can't grow up in ponds. You're not a fish!" Red Kid frowned and pushed his glasses again with his index finger. "In any case, my name isn't 'Red Kid with the Glasses-' it's Maxie! The _Great_ Maxie!"

"They can too!" Archie replied, ignoring Red Kid with the Glasses and his stupid whining. What was all this nonsense about how people couldn't grow up in a pond? Playing in the pond with his friends was a huge part of his life. Red Kid could see that, right? There had to be something wrong with his glasses if he saw them play and called it impossible.

Archie leaped towards the kid with a glare that he hoped looked like the angry stare Ma had whenever Archie got into serious trouble. Archie always listened to her when she did that because that's when he knew when he really messed up.

Yet Red Kid with the Glasses (Maxie, whatever) seemed unconvinced.

"You can't live in the water forever," he said, arms crossed in the most patronizing manner imaginable, one finger pointing down as if to say, 'you missed a spot.' "Look, you're on the ground right now."

Archie wanted to talk back, but the kid had a point. Looking down, pond water dripped into the dirt, leaving his feet in a muddy puddle. Red Kid with the Glasses smirked.

"So I was right. I don't need to apologize to you _._ You're just being stupid like everyone else!" And with those words, Red Kid strolled away once more.

Archie felt his face turn red. Everything that he thought was good—his love of water, his buddies, his good graces to pursue the kid—was struck down by a short "stupid". It angered him even more. If Red Kid got away with this, Archie would never be able to face his friends again. Who better to defend the pond than him? He couldn't afford to lose again like he did in that round of Muddy Dodgeball.

Archie decided that he would do everything he could to make the kid realize his wrongdoings.

So he caught up with Red Kid and grabbed his shoulders. Only now, when they were close up, did Archie finally notice how short Red Kid was; the top of his messy head barely touched Archie's forehead. And he was scrawny, too. If they started fighting, at least Archie would have the advantage of strength. Pinning him down wouldn't take much effort.

The red-haired kid jolted, taking a step back.

"What?!"

"Well… uh..." Archie struggled for words. "I-It's bad to say bad things to the pond! So ya gotta say sorry!"

"It's not even alive!" said the kid, "and I'm not going to listen to you!"

"Are ya gonna say sorry or not?!"

"Never!"

"Then yer not leaving!" Archie grabbed Red Kid's wrists with a firm grip.

He had expected this to turn into a fight, but the kid only writhed against Archie and shook his trapped arm. He gritted his teeth and tried once more, this time using his other hand to push against Archie's. It felt like a soft massage. He kicked Archie in the shin a couple times, swinging his leg with a force that hardly tickled him.

This was going way better than Archie thought it would.

"Get your wet hands off my arm!" yelled Red Kid, now panicking instead of being cocky.

"If ya do as I say." Archie stood still and continued to hold the kid's wrist with ease, grinning as he watched him struggle. All he had to do was to wait for the kid to tire out, and eventually, he'd give in. He'd know that he was wrong and then everything would be nice again. This was for the dignity of the mighty water and those under its benevolence—Archie firmly believed so.

Then the kid clenched Archie's arm, his weak little fingers rubbing on Archie's skin. The next thing Archie knew, a flash of crimson dashed towards him and something squeezed his flesh hard as if it were being gripped by a pair of red-hot pliers. The pain made Archie scream and jump back as he covered the wound with his hand. The moment he escaped it, the pain subsided and replaced itself with numbness. Taking his hand away, a circle of dented, dashed lines became visible on his arm, its center brimming with spots of red and shining traces of water—no, not water, but Red Kid's spit. Eww.

Red Kid with the Glasses had bitten him with the teeth of a dog and the strength of a Groudon. That wasn't something normal kids did. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be holding Red Kid in place. But when Archie looked up, the rascal had already disappeared like a wisp of smoke.

No amount of comfy bedsheets could make Archie feel better. He flopped on his bed. The more he mulled over the memory of Red Kid, the worse he felt. He yelled, kicking and punching the mattress, scaring Carvanha again as it jumped out of Archie's embrace. Thankfully, this wasn't real water. If he tried to flail like that in the pond, he would drown. But he really, really, really hated himself for letting the redhead get away after that mess. In the end, Captain Archie was a failure.

He hadn't returned to the pond since. His teammates probably left already. It didn't seem like a good time to return, not after Archie dumped them there and made Shelly take responsibility as Second Captain. So he took the path back home instead. He took a shower and put on a new set of clothes, like any good boy would do after a long day outside. If his parents asked about the long-sleeved shirt when they came home, Archie would make something up. Something about the fear of catching a cold. They'd believe that. He couldn't bring himself to tell them the real story.

Exhausted, Archie collapsed into his bed a little further, still pouting at the ceiling. Carvanha came closer after making sure the boy wasn't going to go on another rampage and soon fell asleep in the crook of his arm.

He tried to imagine the ocean all around him again. He thought about whether it would be angry at him or Red Kid with the Glasses, who said those bad things in the first place. The water could turn vicious. He knew the waves well—they were massive and could easily eat a boatful of people up in a gulp. But Archie had seen surfers riding on it, angling their boards along the steep water, flipping, spinning in the air and landing back perfectly. He had learned of scientists harnessing it in those facilities with the strange machines. And sailors navigated it with ease, looking as free and fearless as the pirates in the pictures of his adventure books.

They didn't care if it was dirty or not. And even if it was, they'd already figured out how to use it for good. Archie wanted to be like that. He thought of Red Kid and how, despite how irritating he was, he knew things that Archie didn't. If he wasn't so arrogant, he could have been a friend.

Archie's fingers curled into a fist. He looked to the ceiling, determined. When he saw that redhead again, he'd make him apologize. But before that, he'd have to make that kid see how cool the water was. How the entire world began from the water, how growing up with the water made him and the others happy, how the water was boundless and beautiful and breathtaking. It was essential, dirty or not.

Archie let those thoughts roll around in his mind. He closed his eyes to memories of gurgling currents and breezing winds, falling into a dream as deep as the ocean itself. In it, there were no annoying redheads, only a far-reaching view of the deep blue and its creatures drifting freely as a quiet serenity enveloped them.

He didn't have to think about anything. Only the ocean remained.

* * *

 **Notes**

Hey! Thanks for reaching the end.

Hopefully I get more stories written out in the future...the existence of these two guys are a blessing.

Although this series is meant to have no concrete ending - I couldn't come up with long sagas, so I decided to do snippets instead. The goal is to make every chapter connected like a big story and separable as single one-shots at the same time. It might just work.

I'm slow though...Currently planning on writing it out in Chinese first, then translate it into English. This should make me see my problems easier.

Archie POV is probably the only way I can express my love for him. (I'm more a Maxie person...)

Also kids are very appealing to write about.

-I LOVE KID!BOSSES CAN WE HAVE MORE MINI-MAX STUFF PLEASE

(...I'm at a sudden loss of words. That's all for now then (*´◒`*) )

(Again, thank you very much for reading this!)


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